Chapter 10

Mrs Bennet was decided in her plans and Elizabeth and Jane only awaited the replies of Mr. Collins and Mrs. Gardiner respectively to leave. Elizabeth continued to walk as a routine. She took various paths from Longbourn, including back to Oakham Mount, but was disappointed never to see Mr. Wickham out walking again. The gentleman had rather taken her fancy and it struck her while walking into Meryton (a trip she had begun taking with more frequency), that she was not so very different from the incorrigible Lydia, who was skipping along in front of her. It was her mission in life to meet an officer and it had taken all of her elder sisters' energies to ensure she returned home from such trips without exposing herself too radically by hallooing one of them in the street. Now Elizabeth was horrified to find that she was almost wishing her sister to succeed, if only so that she might have the opportunity to meet Mr. Wickham once more.

All of this was unknown to Lydia, and it was to her great astonishment that her first introduction to an officer came thanks to her proper older sister, when quite the most handsome man she had ever seen halted in the street in front of them. He gave Lizzy a look of recognition and delight so marked that it all but commanded her to stop. Elizabeth could not but introduce the gentleman to her sisters. He in turn introduced Mr. Denny at his side and Lydia's eyebrows levitated on her forehead to learn that she was in the presence of two of the most illustrious officers so gossiped about in the town. She soon descended into the most inappropriate familiarity, a sure sign that her head had been turned. The gentlemen bore it with good grace and kindly ignored her impropriety. Thankfully for their sakes, Lydia could only focus her charms on one of them at a time and, when he had a minute's peace from her, Mr. Wickham turned to Elizabeth. He stepped away from the group to create some privacy and very politely inquired as to her health, expressing his hope that she had not caught a cold after her soaking of a few days before. She was grateful that he did not expose her to the attention of the group during this conversation, and glad to have him as her accomplice in keeping the secret of their introduction. As the gentlemen escorted them to the edge of Meryton, his company at her side, hands clasped behind his back, brought Elizabeth more pleasure than she could reasonably explain and she began to appreciate the attraction of a red coat that her sisters had so often opined.

Their mother heard all about the officers as soon as she encountered Lydia in the vestibule and turned on Elizabeth immediately. Thankfully she had had time to water down her initial meeting with Wickham into something less scandalous than a rain-soaked encounter in the woods, but her mother was still enthralled. She had not bled Elizabeth dry of all the details until half way through dinner and continued to pronounce her, well into the evening, as being 'very sly indeed'.

Now that they had been introduced to two of the officers, there was no holding Mrs. Bennet and Lydia back; the dam had burst and it was all that Elizabeth and Jane could do to negotiate with their mother to maintain at least a semblance of mourning. So it was decided that they could make some morning visits and receive callers, but would not attend any evening events. This gave the pair just enough freedom that they could feel confident of manipulating the arrangement to suit themselves and they grudgingly agreed.

From this point on, Mrs. Phillips could usually be counted on to aid them in their schemes and there was almost always a party of officers present in her parlour when they paid their calls. So it was that Mr. Wickham became a regular companion of the family and Elizabeth had some opportunity to further her friendship with him. He was not as well-read as her father, nor had he his satirical wit, but he was the most amiable man she had ever met and seemed to value her quick-wittedness, which she found was almost as pleasing as if he had possessed that quality himself.


Unbeknown to the Bennets, Mr. Wickham had been just as eager to make their acquaintance as they were his. He had been intrigued by reports of a houseful of the most handsome women in the county, whose elusiveness had only added to their mystery and allure. The vision whom he had met in the woods had proven the truth of that.

Discreet enquiries had also led him to discover, much to his astonishment, that the Bennets, and Miss Elizabeth in particular, were known to Mr. Darcy, who he was glad to hear had recently left the town. Mr. Wickham's manner, which had always inspired confidence, had enabled him to unearth whispered claims at Netherfield of an attachment between the two. He could hardly believe it; he knew the man as few others did, and his offering for Elizabeth Bennet was out of the question, her situation being what it was. The only possible explanation could be a dalliance between the two, but such licentiousness was unfathomable in the honourable Mr. Darcy.

Luckily for those concerned, most others who heard the rumour were equally disbelieving: Darcy's cold demeanour, his first, derisory comments about Elizabeth and her disgust with him were widely known and, since it seemed so unlikely to any who had witnessed them in company together, the tale of a liaison did not spread far. Some who had heard it believed that it may have been misquoted and that Bingley and Jane were the lovers in question. Both Jane and Elizabeth were so well liked, however, and their characters fixed as both amiable and decorous in the minds of Meryton, that their good reputations were a bulwark against the irreparable damage such a report would do, were it widely disseminated and believed.

Wickham was not a disinterested or benevolent party, however, and did not automatically dismiss the idea, as unlikely as it may seem. He had lived in the world of speculation and allegation long enough to know that such unconfirmed reports and whispers were often valuable, the more so for involving seemingly upstanding personages. He was very glad indeed that he had met Miss Elizabeth Bennet and believed she would prove a most advantageous and interesting connection, whatever her relationship with Mr. Darcy.

He thought to investigate this relationship for himself at one of Mrs. Phillips' informal mornings and, when the rest of the group were distracted, Wickham asked Elizabeth whether she had met Mr. Darcy while he had been at Netherfield. Her confusion and discomfiture at his enquiry fuelled his suspicions.

"Well… yes. I mean, Jane and I did spend some time at Netherfield while he was there, but I would not say I was at all well acquainted with the man." She wondered how Mr. Wickham might know him, seeming to be so removed from him in both rank and natural inclination that a connection between the two seemed unlikely.

"You may be surprised to find out that I am intimately acquainted with Mr. Darcy and all of his family, for I grew up at his estate in Derbyshire as the son of his father's steward. All of my fondest memories in life are of my time there. You have never seen a more beautiful sight, Miss Bennet, than the sun setting over the hills surrounding Pemberley and the golden pond stretching out in front of the house. I wish you could see it some time."

Elizabeth could not from any of his conversation so far, divine his attitude towards Mr. Darcy and so would not risk more than the vaguest response.

Wickham continued, determined to get something out of her regarding Darcy. "The man himself is quite imposing, as well. But then you would know that, having met him. He came here with a friend of his, did he?"

"Yes, his friend Mr. Bingley took the lease on Netherfield last September. Mr. Darcy and several members of Mr. Bingley's family joined him there. They spent just over two months in the neighbourhood and attended various assemblies and evening parties, before the Scarlet Fever came. They were mostly confined to Netherfield after that and left the country before Christmas." Elizabeth felt herself beginning to ramble in her unease and forced herself into silence.

"I do not believe I have met Mr. Bingley. Is he an amiable man?" His enquiry was an innocent one, but on seeing her darkening countenance, Mr. Wickham congratulated himself on hitting on such a promising topic.

"Mr. Bingley is the consummate gentleman. His manners are engaging- quite the opposite of Mr. Darcy. He is young and flighty, however, and I do not believe he will return to the neighbourhood." She had not meant to speak derogatorily of Mr. Darcy, but could not help expressing her poor opinion of the man, albeit indirectly. As for Mr. Bingley, she could not wholeheartedly praise the man given his treatment of her sister, but what good would come of discussing the situation with Mr. Wickham?

"I understand that Mr. Darcy was not universally well-regarded in the neighbourhood. I am curious to know how he behaves among strangers." He was watching her closely, now and she was determined to display no more unseemly emotion in speaking of Mr. Darcy. She chose her words carefully.

"I would say that the neighbourhood, rather than having any explicit reason to dislike him, was insulted that he did not make the effort that he might have with the locals; especially when his manner is held in comparison with that of Mr. Bingley. He has done nothing to give particular offence, but neither has he exerted himself to show regard for those around him." She was of course excluding his unequivocal insult to herself, in this analysis.

"And how did you find him, Miss Bennet… personally?"

She paused for an answer, knowing that this hesitation itself, if overlong, would rouse suspicion.

"I could not presume to sketch his character after so short an acquaintance; he does not have his friend's warm disposition which might invite intimacy after only a few months' acquaintance, though he does seem to be a man of information and intelligence."

Elizabeth was pleased with her answer: it was not so positive as to be out of step with the opinions of Meryton- it was true- and yet did not reek of bitterness or disappointment. For these very reasons, Mr. Wickham was unsatisfied with their discourse and would not risk speaking any further on the matter at present. Her pensive mood for the remainder of his visit, however, convinced him that there was more to be learnt on the subject.


Mr. Collins' letter reluctantly accepting Elizabeth's presence at Hunsford was quickly followed by a very embarrassed one from Kitty, who attempted to downplay her problems, while at the same time begging for Elizabeth's company as soon as may be. Mrs. Gardiner's reply was a little more leisurely in coming, she being unaware of any need for haste, and eventually the date for departure was set. They would leave just before Easter and it was tentatively planned for Elizabeth to stay with Kitty for a month, with Jane residing in London, during that time. Elizabeth did consider speaking to Jane about Mr. Bingley's absence, as she had once vowed to do, to alert her to what she may expect in Town, or even to dissuade her from going. In the end, she could not think of how to introduce the topic in a way that would neither upset Jane, nor give rise to enquiries as to how Elizabeth knew that Mr. Bingley had given Jane up irrevocably.

On the eve their forthcoming departure, both Jane and Elizabeth spent a fair part of the day packing their things, moving through the house as they gathered their belongings. Elizabeth was passing her father's study in pursuit of her best pair of gloves when her mother, already inside, called for her and shut the door behind her. The image of her mother in the library was bizarre, and Mrs. Bennet did not seem very comfortable herself as she wrung her hands and struggled to express her thoughts.

"Lizzy, you are to go to Hunsford tomorrow," she finally began, "and I am not sure what exactly you will find there. Your cousin's account may be exaggerated, as you say, but we both know that Kitty is not the most resilient of characters and she is certainly not making a good impression there. I hope I do not need to explain to you how important it is for their marriage to succeed."

"No, Mama," Elizabeth started to say but was interrupted by her mother who would have her say first.

"That man is the only thing keeping us from sitting in the hedgerows with nothing but the clothes on our backs and, though he is married to your sister, he is not obligated to keep us here. Even if he does, it is within his power to make this a very unhappy home for us. It is imperative that you fix this, Lizzy. Kitty must obey her husband- and Lady Catherine, in this case. She must learn to be a parson's wife" Elizabeth wondered at her mother giving advice on matrimony so diametrically opposite to what her own demeanour in marriage had been, but her mother had not finished speaking.

"It is not really proper for me to say this to you, but you must keep in mind when you speak to Kitty that a very important part of a man's relationship with his wife is- and you will learn this when you marry- is what happens in the bedroom.' Mrs. Bennet paused, allowing the meaning of her words to sink in- as if her daughter wasn't painfully aware of her clumsy allusions.

Elizabeth was about ready to run from the room at this point, but her mother's earnestness prevented her from doing so. "If a man is happy- with that- he may be more forgiving of his wife. And of course there is the heir to consider. It is vital for all our sakes, that Kitty gives him that. I have written to her about it, but I can get no satisfaction from her on the subject."

"Here, take this." Her mother pressed a letter into her hand and kept a hold of her, clinging to her almost, as she said, "Give this to her and have her read it in your presence, then let her talk to you about it. You will not understand a word of it of course, but do your best, Lizzy. If you can pry the particulars from her, you may write to me and I will advise you." Elizabeth was speechless, but could not brush off her mother's concerns as she usually did. She did not know if her mother's plan for her to discuss this with Kitty was the wisest option, but she respected her concern for her family and the fact the she was at least attempting to improve the situation. Her father may have been the sharper of the couple by far, but he had never shown such active interest in protecting his family's interests and Elizabeth knew that this was not the time to follow his lax example. She would do her part, whatever that may entail, to smooth the waters of the Collins' marriage.


In view of their imminent departure, some visitors called to bid them fare well, Mr. Phillips having been persuaded to join his wife in inviting the officers to accompany them to Longbourn. They all had a very merry morning and it had been some time since the house had seen such gaiety. When tea was served, Mr. Wickham, who was in attendance, made sure to secure a seat near Elizabeth. He leaned in close and began speaking in his usual jovial manner.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in Hunsford, Miss Bennet, though perhaps the company may not be all that is agreeable. I know well what is in store for you there. Though I have never been to Rosings Park, I remember Lady Catherine from her visits to Pemberley in my youth."

"One could hardly forget her," he mumbled into his tea cup before taking a sip. Elizabeth smiled widely at his remarks, as she almost always did in his company.

"Yes my cousin has described her ladyship in effusive detail and I am eager to meet her. I only hope she can live up to my expectations!"

The pair continued in this flippant manner until it was almost time for their visitors to take their leave. They were cosseted in the corner, their cosy behaviour dissuading all others from joining them, almost to the point of rudeness.

"Well think of us, won't you, while you are away," Wickham chided her good-naturedly. "You will both be very sorely missed." His eyes searched hers and Elizabeth did not think it was vain of her to believe that he might particularly miss her.

Her friendship with Mr. Wickham had always sat on a knife's edge, for he was everything that a young and lively woman would find tempting in a man and there was a tacit attraction between them that neither had the courage to address. Elizabeth sometimes thought of what could have happened if it had been Mr. Wickham staying at Netherfield instead of Mr. Darcy: if he had been the man to come upon her that day in the library. There would have been no awkwardness or detachment; it would be like a novel- all passion and desire.

And the conversation would most certainly have been more agreeable.

Mr. Darcy having been brought to mind, Elizabeth questioned Mr. Wickham about his similarity to his aunt. She was rather intrigued to hear more of him from a childhood acquaintance who would have such a unique perspective on the man and it was only her shyness and apprehension that prevented her from mentioning Mr. Darcy more often in their conversations.

"Physically, I would not say there is a great resemblance- she is his aunt on his mother's side and Darcy is the image of his father. She is a tall, large woman- big-boned. Her massive physique rather suits her overbearing personality; I'm sure your quick mind has caught on by now to the fact that I do not much like her! She was always horrid to me as a child- the son of the steward doesn't merit much consideration, you see." He was lost in thought for a moment before meeting her eye and forcing a weak smile.

"I am sorry to hear that. It must have been very difficult to constantly be made aware of your inferiority. And how does Mr. Darcy get on with his aunt? He cannot have been oblivious to her treatment of you."

"Indeed, he was not." He seemed to consider whether to continue, before, looking around to check that they were unobserved, he confessed in a lowered voice, "Truth be told, Miss Elizabeth, myself and Darcy are not the best of friends, which may surprise you given your knowledge of our childhoods spent together."

Elizabeth was not as surprised as he might have thought, and believed that she could guess the cause of their animosity. She was eager for him to continue, however, and urged him to do so.

"The simple truth of it is that, in temperament, Mr. Darcy is far more like his aunt than his father. Mr. Darcy senior was very good to me and sponsored me at school and later Cambridge. He arranged for a living in the church to be mine and did whatever he could to promote my happiness. His son couldn't bear to see it- a steward's son given such privilege. And his jealousy of my friendship with his father assisted his pride, I am sure. To make a long story short, Mr. Darcy passed away and his son refused to honour his father's wishes: the living was given elsewhere, when it came into his gift, and I was banished."

Elizabeth had expected some tale of pride and jealousy, but nothing as dastardly as this. She had known that Mr. Darcy was an unpleasant man, an arrogant man, even a cruel man, at times, but to disregard his father's wishes in such a way that seemed bordering on criminal, this would require more; she had never before thought him truly wicked. Then she reconsidered his opinions on Jane's relationship with Bingley: they were entirely consistent with his dismissal of the aspirations of a man of Wickham's background to better himself. She remembered that night in his bedroom, when he had called her a whore and a mercenary, and nearly brought her to tears with his hateful language. Yes, she could see it now: his behaviour towards Mr. Wickham was in absolute harmony with the man she had seen at Netherfield; she had just never wanted to admit such a thing.


Lydia was uncharacteristically upset at their departure, offering her well-wishes for Kitty and bidding them return quickly, but she was not so downcast that she neglected to demand they bring her presents, in between sniffles into her handkerchief. The girls travelled together to London, where Elizabeth stayed the night, before Mr. Gardiner conveyed her into Kent.

Their carriage arrived at the parsonage after travelling almost the whole length of Rosings park, its boundary on one side brimming with life, as the spring growth tumbled out onto the road. When they reached the parsonage, it was similarly encumbered, with vines climbing the walls and border plants flourishing in the spring sun. A sturdy church spire peeked over the courtyard wall. Both Mr. and Mrs. Collins were waiting to receive them and Kitty's grasping hug the moment she alighted from the carriage reminded Elizabeth of her sister's wretchedness. Mr. Collins was also clearly relieved to see them and eagerly led them on a tour of the house. It was all that Mr. Gardiner could do to extricate himself in time to drive home that afternoon (1). On his departure, Mr. Collins re-joined them in the parlour. Now that it was just the three of them, he began to make obscure references to 'Mrs' Collins' difficulties', to which his wife blushed scarlet, but it did not seem that that the sisters would have any time to themselves that evening to address the issue further. Instead Elizabeth enquired about their life in a general way, careful to skim over any evidence of discord or difficulty, which constrained the conversation considerably. Though Kitty was quiet, Mr. Collins filled any lull in the conversation in the best way he knew how- with profusions of gratitude to his patroness. So it was that Elizabeth went to bed that night- early, for Mr. Collins' company was trying- without feeling that she had had a chance to really talk to Kitty at all and hoping that they might have some time alone together the next day.

Alas, this was not to be, as when she rose, rather later than was usual for her, breakfast was being served in the dining room and Mr. Collins began immediately to outline his plans for the day, which included guiding Elizabeth on a tour of the gardens at Rosings Park. Though this was exactly the type of occupation that Elizabeth should have enjoyed, she did not anticipate the outing with any pleasure, as she felt sure that Mr. Collins' fixation on the minute and trifling could suck the beauty from the heavens themselves. As it was, her predictions proved correct and the formal gardens at Rosings where they spent most of their tour, though handsome in a rigid way, were not equal to Mr. Collins' profusions on every present plant variety and the number of gardeners and assortment of tools required to maintain them. Elizabeth could only hope that the Collinses would soon return to their usual routine at which time she could discreetly help Kitty and escape the omnipresence of her husband.

Though she had not yet had a chance to get the truth from Kitty herself, Elizabeth observed the household, gathering her own intelligence. That Kitty was not happy was obvious, she had never been strong-willed, but was a naturally cheerful girl, who, though prone to frequent bouts of ill-humour due to Lydia's small triumphs over her, would rally from these promptly. Now, though, she seemed to have been meekened. She had not once in Elizabeth's presence addressed her husband unbidden and his veiled criticisms hurt her visibly. She ceased all participation in the conversation at any mention by her husband of Lady Catherine, which was, unfortunately for all, a frequent occurrence.

Part of the problem in their marriage seemed to be that Mr. Collins was too much in his wife's business; for how could any woman stand to have a man hovering over her as she managed the house. She supposed that this may be due to Kitty's past blunders, but suspected that Mr. Collins' pompous nature and complacent self-righteousness were more to blame. This she could help with immediately. She began to discuss his duties and interests and quietly influenced him to attend to his other pursuits, confident that she would take over his role in monitoring the household. The result of this manoeuvring was that, shortly after, Mr. Collins returned to his usual routine of calling on parishioners and sermon writing, augmenting this with time in his garden.

So it was that it was some days into her visit before Elizabeth could sit down in the parlour with Kitty and discuss the situation. She attempted to broach the topic sensitively, but when she mentioned the issues outlined in Mr. Collins' letter, Kitty burst into tears and seemed to need to get her lachrymose confession off her chest. Elizabeth just listened and comforted, and wondered to herself how she would help.

Kitty's account was complementary to Mr. Collins', though she felt wounded by his description of the situation. She readily admitted that she had not the first clue how to manage the household accounts, and, following some gentle prodding from Elizabeth, confessed that she had made some unauthorised purchases with the grocery money, leaving her short when it came time to settle the accounts. This mismanagement at home had angered Lady Catherine, who took Kitty's failure as a personal insult. Elizabeth could not approve of frivolous spending, but neither was she pleased to find that the marriage articles had not stipulated a set pin money for her sister and that all but the most minor purchases outside of the usual household accounts were being approved by Mr. Collins. As for Lady Catherine's involvement in their affairs, though unsurprising in the character who had been described to her, it could not be helpful, and was clearly exacerbating the problems between the couple.

Another, more subtle, problem than the black and white of the account book, was Kitty's relationship with the servants. The two maids were challenging in different ways: Mrs Martin was a long-term employee at the parsonage, predating Mr. Collins, and her indomitable will had cowed Kitty, to the extent that she was afraid to contradict the woman; Mary, on the other hand, was of a similar age to Kitty and had been her sole consolation. Unfortunately this friendship was inappropriate and the maid had become too familiar with the mistress. Elizabeth had witnessed none of this, but she was sure that the maid had more sense than to exhibit such behaviour in front of Mr. Collins and would be even more cautious after the dressing down she had received when he had found the pair, Mary sitting on the mistress' bed in Kitty's best bonnet.

For now Elizabeth just listened and re-assured: she would wait to tackle the Lady Catherine dilemma until she had met the woman for herself. The problem with the maids would take more than one discussion to solve and today was not the day to start. The most straight-forward issue would be the accounts and that she would begin today. They resolved to take a walk and then open the account book on their return and see how the situation lay.

Their walk, unlike Mr. Collins' promenade in the shrubberies near the house, was an impulsive exploration of the grounds, and was all the more enjoyable for it. The woods were extensive and, if not wild, at least natural; their plant life was just erupting from its winter slumber and was at a stage where its lushness could be appreciated without overpowering. The forest paths were charming, crossing undulating hills and passing several outstanding views down on to the park. Elizabeth thought that had she accepted Mr. Collins' advances she would have found considerable solace in these woods, but she doubted that her sister had the same affinity for or derived the same comfort in nature that she did. Kitty would have to find another way to live with her decisions.

They were rambling down a gravel avenue, bordered by mature trees, both lost in their own thoughts, when two riders emerged from a side path obscured by the undergrowth and happened upon them from a short distance away. One of the gentlemen, sandy-haired and shorter than his companion, was unknown to Elizabeth. The other was the unmistakable, arresting form of Mr. Darcy.

As he was the highest in consequence and the man who was acquainted with all present, it was his place to introduce the other parties. He made no move to do so, however, and said not a word, but gestured to the tip of his hat, dipping his head slightly. He sat tall a moment on his horse and stared, his fingers twitching around the reins, unsettling his horse, before turning him about and, with a rather insensitive kick, urging his mount in the opposite direction. His companion, seeing the recognition on both sides, seemed astonished at his behaviour and shot an apologetic glance at the ladies, whom he could not properly address himself, before hurrying after his friend.

"Oh yes, I forgot to tell you," Kitty remarked, when the gentlemen were out of earshot. "Mr. Darcy has come to visit his aunt- she talked of nothing else for a month beforehand! The world is a very small place, is it not?"

Elizabeth was too astonished to attempt a reply.


(1) I am being a bit optimistic in having Mr. Gardiner drive to Kent and home in one day. The journey of 21 miles each way would take about five hours, with time for resting and changing horses (every ten to twelve miles). The horses would then have to be changed again, or rested for at least two hours, before taking the five hour journey home again. It was not unknown, however, to travel 60 miles a day in a private coach.